Counting By Fives
by Thnx4theGum
Summary: A look at all of the Booth anniversaries from 5 through 45. The 50th anniversary is written in Wedding Vows: A Series of 12 Oneshots.
1. Five

**Welcome to the latest series of oneshots that I am currently working on. It's a look at all of the Booth anniversaries from 5 through 45. The 50****th**** anniversary is written in ****Wedding Vows: A Series of 12 Oneshots****. Hope you enjoy. Comments are always welcome!**

**Gum**

Five

"Bones!" Seeley Booth bellowed up the stairs, "Angela and Hodgins are here. Are you ready yet?"

He could hear his wife, Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth, as she scurried around their bedroom, making sure that she was not forgetting anything. He could picture her in his mind as she slipped into her heels, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, and walked- fully composed- to the top of the stairs.

"Ah, Bones," Booth breathed, a grin spreading across his face, "You look beautiful."

He watched her, mesmerized, as she floated down the flight of stairs, holding his elbow out for her as she reached the bottom. She took it. One part of his mind registered that she was rattling off a long list of dos and don'ts for Angela and Hodgins to adhere to with the girls; however, most of his mind was completely transfixed by his wife's appearance.

She had selected a light blue dress which, though floor-length, was cut tantalizingly low up top, and clung to her curves like a second skin. Her hair was done up in a French twist behind her head, a few strands loose on either side to frame her face. One of her multi-stranded necklaces accessorized the outfit, along with a pair of dangling earrings- one of which he had recovered from a crime scene in New Orleans a lifetime ago.

"Taking in the scenery?" Jack Hodgins grinned, slapping Booth's shoulder.

"They don't make it hard," Booth returned the grin.

"Nope," Hodgins shook his head, taking in his own wife.

At just over four months along, Angela's face was radiant with the glow of pregnancy. Booth thought she looked content as well as five year-old Jack Junior, who was running around at her ankles. The Hodgins' daughter, Kayli, was enjoying the view of things from her father's arms.

"Know what, Unca Boof?" Kayli asked him from her perch.

"What, Short Stuff?"

"I'm gonna be two in two days," she grinned.

"You sure are," Booth smiled, "Are you going to have a party?"

"No, Silly," she giggled, "I'm gonna have cake and ice cream! And lots and lots of presents too!"

"Cool."

"Uh huh," her whole body rocked as she nodded her head, "Did _you_ get me a present, Unca Boof?"

Booth stifled a laugh while Jack reddened and explained to his daughter how that was a rude question to ask.

"But he's got a present right there," the little girl pointed to a bulge under Booth's jacket, "I just thought it was for me."

"Nope," Booth shook his head, patting the bulge, "This present is for Auntie Bones."

"Are you ready to go, Booth?" the topic of their conversation asked, oblivious to the talk between her husband and Kayli, "We would not want to miss our reservation."

"Just waiting for you, Bones," he smiled.

All eight of the Booths' foster daughters lined up to see them off. Goodbyes were exchanged and soon they were seated at an expensive Italian restaurant that had just recently opened. The tables were arranged in tiers that circled a large dance floor. A live band played unobtrusively in the background. They selected their entrees and Booth began munching on the garlic bread sticks that had been provided. Brennan laughed softly.

"What?" Booth mumbled around the food in his mouth, "I'm hungry."

"Apparently," she smiled wide, reaching over to brush a large crumb off of his lips, "Though it would appear that you are dropping nearly as much as you are eating."

"You are welcome to come and lick me clean, Bones," he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Seeley Booth," she smacked him lightly on the shoulder, "You are an enigma."

"An enigma?" he feigned a look of horror, "Is it contagious?"

She shook her head, "It's just that for the longest time you would redden or try and change the subject when I would attempt to bring up sexual relations," their waiter picked that moment to arrive with their appetizers and beat a hasty retreat back to the kitchen on hearing what they were discussing. Booth chuckled as Bones continued, unaffected, "Once we married, however, you became very candid on the subject, at least in regards to our marital relations. You are still a bit prudish when it comes to-"

"Yeah, let's not go there tonight, Bones," Booth cut her off.

"Truly?" she looked at him, confused, "I thought you would have wanted to celebrate in that manner."

"Oh I do, Bones," he assured her with a teasing leer, "I do! But it's not exactly dinner talk, ya know?"

"I don't see why not," she countered, "It is a perfectly natural occurrence and a socially acceptable activity- especially amongst married couples."

"Socially acceptable, yes," Booth agreed, "But not at an exclusive restaurant. When the prices aren't listed on the menu, there is a certain code of conduct when it comes to conversations."

"Oh," she sipped her wine, "I was unaware. I apologize."

"No problem, Bones," he smiled to show her it didn't bother him.

The rest of the night progressed smoothly. It was refreshing to have a break from the normal chaos of their lives. The couple both agreed that the food was well worth whatever price they would end up paying. They also took several turns around the dance floor, enjoying the live music. Booth reveled in her nearness, drinking in her daffodil perfume, and marveling at what a lucky man he was. It never ceased to amaze him that this beautiful, highly-intelligent woman had chosen him out of all of the other men who had clamored for her. He kissed the top of her head as it came to rest on his shoulder as the music played on.

After the dinner and the dancing and a shared piece of cheesecake smothered in strawberries, the couple left the restaurant sated and content. Wanting to savor the night a bit longer, they decided to stroll through the gardens that surrounded the restaurants. A lighted path guided them past rows of rose bushes and walls of ivy. The path ended in a cul-de-sac that circled a small pond. Iron-wrought benches were spaced around the outer edge of the cul-de-sac and they sat down.

"Booth," he watched her regard him with caution and reached out to stroke her arm, "Why _are_ you so much more open when it comes to discussing sexual relations now?"

"Well," he was relieved to see that no one else was in the gardens at the moment, "I guess 'cause back then you were talking about you and other guys, and now- well- now we talk about us. I like teasing you too."

She considered his words and frowned, "I suppose I did- however, to be fair you shared stories from high school that were meant to convey sexual prowess."

"Guilty," he grinned.

"Booth," her eyes sought out his, "Did it injure your spirit for me to flaunt my sexual exploits with other men so blatantly in front of you?"

"Sometimes," he admitted, stroking her arm, "But after three years I kinda got used to you treating me like your girlfriend."

"Oh, Booth," her hand flew to her mouth, mortified, "I never intended to emasculate you! I simply wanted to share my experiences with you and receive guidance- though I see now that perhaps I should have gone to Angela for the sexual questions. I apologize, Booth."

"Don't worry about it, Bones," he smiled kindly at her, "I never held it against you."

"Thank you, Booth," she sighed with relief, "I truly do see you as a prime example of masculinity and I'm pleased that you're such a large part of my life now. A true partner."

"You're welcome, Bones," he was touched by her opinion of him, "I just feel lucky that you settled for me."

"Booth," she pulled back, "I did _not_ 'settle,' as you put it, when I married you!"

"What did you see in me?"

She thought for a moment before replying, "You are kind, Booth- even with the criminals that we arrest you do not resort to beating them simply for sport. You're supportive and make sure that everyone else's needs are cared for before you care for your own. You're also wise when it comes to navigating the often treacherous waters of interpersonal communications. I cannot think of anyone else whom I could fully rely on for prudent advice. You are also strong and brave- a true warrior in every sense of the word.

"On a more personal level, you are the first person since Russ to care about me. Where I am, what I am doing, if I am taking proper care of myself. I lost all of that when I was fifteen and, while it was difficult to adjust to at first, I have found that I truly love having someone in my life who takes the time to watch out for me. You also listen to me when I want to talk and allow me to stay silent when I need that as well. You are not intimidated by my intelligence and you challenge me to personal growth in areas where I am weak. And too-" she blushed deeply and halted her monologue.

"What, Bones?" Booth raised his eyebrows.

"Well," she said slowly, "You are a very nicely put-together man, Booth," he grinned; she continued, "And you were one of the first men that I remember who was not interested in getting to know me by engaging in sexual intercourse. In fact, your insistence on chastity before the wedding had me doubting that you valued me physically at all."

His wife paused, and again Booth was thankful that no one else was in the vicinity. Silence pervaded.

"I valued you physically from the first time I saw you in that dress before you went to the donor's banquet," he started gently, "You were so beautiful, Bones. Took my breath away, literally. Call me a Puritan, but it was partially because I found you so attractive that I wanted to save our intimacy for our wedding night. I also wanted you to know that I was in this for a real relationship- not just two people acting on their 'biological urges' or anything like that. You can't build a relationship on pure hormones alone," he dug the package out of his breast pocket and handed it to her, "This is for you, Bones."

She turned it over in her hands several times before carefully peeling back the wrapping paper. Inside the box was a framed photograph of Special Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Temperance Brennan, dressed to the nines- no doubt on their way to one of the formal banquets at the Jeffersonian. It was taken long before they had become a couple, but she could see the love that shone in Booth's eyes, and the admiration in her own. They were both smiling. Inscribed on the frame was a silvery script that read, "To my Bones: then, now, and always. Love, Booth".

"Oh, Booth," she gasped, "Thank you."

"There are two matching frames to go with it," he explained, "I'd like to get our picture taken sometime soon and put that in one of them. Then the other one is for when we are old and gray."

She laughed at the thought of an old, gray Booth and gave him an impulsive hug. He grinned, holding her tight; pleased that she approved of his gift.

She let go and produced an envelope from her purse, "It's not nearly as personal," she apologized.

He smiled, assuring her that he would love it no matter what, and tore into the envelope. A card was inside and something fell out of the card and onto his lap. He read the card first, "Dear Booth, I am enjoying marriage more than I ever thought I would. No doubt that is thanks to you. Thank you for loving me. Happy 5th Anniversary! Love, Your Bones."

He glanced down at his lap. Three tickets lay there.

"The NBA Playoffs?" he gasped, "Courtside? Bones, do you have any clue how hard these are to come by?"

She shrugged, "I simply called my publicist and told him that you enjoyed basketball. He helped me procure the tickets. Do you like them?"

"Like them?" he gave her a resounding kiss on the lips, "I love them, Bones! And I love you! Though I have to ask, why are there three tickets?"

"One is for you," she explained patiently, "The second one is for me, so that you can explain the game to me. And the third one is for Parker. I have already spoken with Rebecca and she has granted him permission to join us. Also, Angela and Hodgins have agreed to watch the girls again."

"You are the best, Bones!" he stood up, picked her up off of the bench, and twirled her around in a large circle before setting her down and kissing her deep and long.

"Booth," she breathed pulling back slightly, "Perhaps we should go home and finish this."

"I'd like nothing better," he said with a wide grin.

And that's exactly what they did.


	2. Ten

Ten

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth sat in her favorite rocking chair and surveyed the scene in her living room.

On the floor, Parker and the twins were seated in a circle, playing a card game called Spoons. She had so far deduced that the object of each round was not to be the person left without a spoon in their possession; however, what triggered the frantic grasping for the implements eluded her. The teenagers seemed to be enjoying themselves, at least.

She shook her head, wondering how the years had slipped away from her. Gone were the last vestiges of the tow-haired boy who had babbled _ad nauseum_ about dinosaurs and T-ball. He stood toe-to-toe with Booth now- every inch his father's son. Last week Parker had turned eighteen, graduated from high school, and announced to Rebecca that he was going to live at his father's house. Rebecca had been hurt at first, but had recognized the futility in arguing with her son and had let him go. Booth had been thrilled, as had little Jacob and the twins. Parker had assimilated into the family as if he had lived there every day of his life.

Fifteen year-old twins Jenny and Julie squealed in triumph as they both beat Parker to the spoons. They had come far from the rebellious pre-adolescents that they had been when they first joined the Booth household. Of course, some of the change probably stemmed from the stability that came with being adopted as official Booth family members. The papers had finally cleared late last year and the girls had been ecstatic. They were tall and gangly, blonde hair styled in identical long layers, both teetering on the cusp of womanhood. Booth teased that he would have to carry a large club to beat off potential suitors.

The youngest member of the Booth clan, three year-old Jacob, flitted around the room. Right now he was sitting on Parker's lap, though two minutes before he had been on Julie's and a minute before that, on Temperance's. So far he seemed to have suffered no ill effects from his early exposure to methamphetamine. And he had quickly grown from a scrawny, malnourished infant into a sturdy toddler. Right now he was obsessed with the original Star Wars trilogy and could frequently be heard talking to Obi-Wan and Han Solo. Booth assured her that this was normal behavior for a young boy with an active imagination.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearing eight o'clock and she had not yet heard from Booth, which was not altogether unusual. Deputy Director Seeley Booth was in high demand these days at the Hoover Building. He had originally taken a vacation day today, for their tenth anniversary, but had been called in for an emergency meeting with the directors of the CIA and Homeland Security. He had left early this morning, bleary-eyed, and had promised to keep her updated by phone. He hadn't called yet.

The phone rang, making a liar of her.

Jacob beat her to it, a wide grin lighting up his face as he recognized Booth's voice, "Hi Daddy! I'm playing a game with everybody 'cept Mommy. We read Horton today. I like Horton. Mommy does too, but she says elephants can't really talk and that kangaroos and monkeys don't put them in cages. I'm glad they don't, aren't you?" a pause for the response, "Yeah, me too. She says there is a higher-ark-cical thingy someplace in the jungle, but that kangaroo's aren't at the top," another pause- she could hear Booth laughing on the other end, "Okay, Daddy! See ya tomorrow!"

She quickly intercepted Jacob before he hung up the phone and then retreated to the basement so that they could talk in relative silence.

"Hey, Bones," Booth greeted her softly, "Sounds like a fun day there."

"Yes."

"Sorry I can't be there."

"Booth, you can't control when the FBI requires your presence."

"I know, Bones," he released the breath that he had been holding, "But it's not like our tenth anniversary comes around every day."

"No," she agreed softly, "But I do understand."

"Thanks, Bones."

"You're welcome, Booth."

They exchanged summaries of their respective days. He couldn't discuss specifics and was unsure what time he would be able to leave. She described the card game to him and they shared a laugh. They reminisced about the past too, each recalling some funny anecdote that had occurred along the way. He offered to let her open her present while they were on the phone. She declined, saying the exchange could be delayed for a day. He thanked her again for her understanding.

"Well, Bones," Booth sighed, "It's been an hour. I should really get going."

"Alright," she acceded, "Would you like me to wait up for you?"

"You could," he replied, "But I'm really not sure when we're getting out of here, so feel free to go to bed if it gets too late."

"Okay," she tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, though she was certain that Booth could detect it either way, "Good night, Booth. I love you."

"Love you too, Bones," his voice was thick with emotion, "Happy Decade!"

"Yes," she smiled, "It has been a happy decade, Booth. Come home safely!"

"Will do!"

"Good Bye."

"Bye, Bones."

They hung up.

_Four hours later._

Booth cautiously opened the front door even though the living room light was on. He smiled at the sight that greeted him. Bones was sound asleep in her rocker, a forensic anthropology journal spread across her chest.

"Always put me to sleep too," he muttered to himself.

Setting down his briefcase, he moved over to her and picked her up gently. It wasn't as easy as it had been a decade ago, but he managed just fine. He deposited her in their bed and kissed her lightly on the brow. As quietly as he could, he prepared for bed and joined her. She smiled in her sleep and moved her body to fit into his, never waking. He held her in his arms and was asleep within minutes. It was good to be home.


	3. Fifteen

Fifteen

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth paced the floor, nervous anticipation building with every footfall. Years ago she had done the same thing, in this same place, and had received the worst new since the social worker had informed her that she would be placed into foster care. Booth had died- or so she had been led to believe that night. They had lied to her- or at least Sweets had- and she had left with a pain in her heart that had not healed until Booth's "funeral" two weeks later when she learned that he was alive and well. Now she was back in that hospital- she wondered how similar the results would be this time.

Things certainly were similar; but the differences were there as well. Sixteen years ago she was not married to him. She had not had a three year-old daughter and an eight year-old son to answer to; not to mention twenty year-old twin daughters and one very nervous twenty-four year-old stepson. The last time she had also not been given hours to pace the halls, wondering what had become of the man she had so thoroughly integrated her life with. She could not decide if having a family now was more of a help or a burden. All she knew was that this was _not_ how she had intended to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary.

A black, government-issue sedan had pulled into her driveway just as she was putting dinner on the table. Two men in expensive black suits had exited the vehicle and informed her that Deputy Director Seeley Booth had been injured in the line of duty and was en route to the hospital. They were there to transport her to him at once.

She nodded calmly and went to inform Jenny what had transpired. Jenny had told her to go. She would take charge of Jake and Hope, as well as get in touch of Julie and Parker while her mother went to the hospital. Now, four hours later, she had still not been informed as to Booth's status and her anxiety level was beginning to peak.

"Mrs. Booth?" a stout, balding man came out into the lobby, gaze sweeping the room.

"Yes?" her voice was breathless and her heart rate accelerated.

"Hello," he held out his hand, "I'm Dr. Fretz, your husband's surgeon."

She accepted the man's firm handshake and waited for him to expound.

"Well," he explained, "We were able to remove everything without incident; though, I must say I was afraid for a few minutes there that we would have to open him all the way up."

Temperance momentarily blanched, but composed herself before asking, "Will there be any long-term consequences?"

The doctor nodded, "His diet will have to change in some respects. Also some patients report a lack of bowel control. And walking upright will be a problem as well, for quite some time."

"Is he awake? Can I see him?" she didn't care whether he would be whole again or not; she just wanted him alive.

"Not yet," Fretz shook his head, "It might be a while before he's awake and up for company."

"Days?" she asked, warily.

"Oh, no! Certainly not that long," the doctor's eyes met hers, "Several hours perhaps. Gallbladder surgery might be considered an outpatient procedure these days, but it's still no walk in the park."

"Gallbladder surgery?!" came the incredulous reply, "All of this secrecy over _gallbladder_ surgery?!"

"Mrs. Booth," the man regarded her suddenly, "What were you told about your husband's condition prior to my explanation?"

"Nothing," she felt like throttling the man, though her rational mind convinced her that would not be in her best interest, "I was picked up at my house by two government agents, informed that my husband had been injured on the job, and was left here four hours ago with no further information."

"Ah," understanding dawned in the man's eyes, "No wonder you were so concerned. Please," he motioned to one of the chairs, "Sit down."

She complied.

"Now," Dr. Fretz said calmly, "From what I was told by the FBI, Deputy Director Booth collapsed in pain in his office at the Hoover Building. He managed to get to his secretary before passing out. A superficial head wound was sustained from him hitting the floor. He was rushed here, where we ascertained that his gallbladder was severely inflamed and in danger of rupturing.

"As I said before, we were able to complete the removal process non-invasively; however, we did come close to having to do some serious surgery. We removed seven gallstones the size of a bouncy ball from him, as well as the gallbladder himself. He'll be sore for several weeks, but after that he'll be as good as new. His level of pain will determine whether or not he needs to be kept overnight for evaluation. The surrounding tissue was very badly inflamed."

"Thank you," she managed, shaking his hand again, "When may I see him?"

Fretz looked at her and a compassionate and gentle smile spread across his face, "I would take you back right now if you were a doctor, but it would be against protocol otherwise."

"I am a doctor," she blurted out, "I'm Doctor Temperance Brennan-Booth."

"Well then," the man's countenance lifted, "Let's go visit your husband."

"I need to update my children first," she said suddenly, "They need to know it's not as serious as we all thought."

"Of course."

She hustled off as quickly as she could and found the three older ones playing with the younger two out on the hospital playground. Relaying the doctor's words, a collective sigh went through the group- old and young. Parker volunteered to stay at the hospital with her since he had been at work at the time and had come separately. The twins agreed that they would take Jacob and Hope home. It had been a long night and they were all weary. Goodbyes and hugs were exchanged as they went their separate ways.

"This truly isn't necessary," Temperance told Parker as they walked back into the hospital, "I could've easily taken a cab out to the Hoover Building and picked up Booth's SUV."

"I want to be here for my dad," Parker waved her off, "And besides, we Booth men have to take care of our Bones, you know."

Parker slipped an arm around his step-mother and gave her his very best Booth charm smile. It worked and she leaned into him for support, knowing that Booth would be proud of the man his son had become.

"I'm afraid I can only take you back, Dr. Booth," Dr. Fretz said sympathetically when they arrived back in the lobby.

Parker nodded his understanding, "Go be with him, Dr. Bones," he said softly.

Doctor Fretz led her back through the double doors and into the flow of doctors and nurses who were making their rounds, prepping patients for surgery, and whispering in soft tones while huddled over patient charts. He introduced her to the head nurse and acquired a visiting doctor's badge that would allow her to remain in the restricted area unquestioned. They headed toward the surgery recovery rooms.

"Let me know if I can get you anything," Dr. Fretz said as they reached the door to Booth's room, "And ring for the nurse when he wakes up. I'll come by and check on him in a while."

She nodded wordlessly, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

He was flat on his back, face a bit ashen, forehead bandaged from where he had hit his head. The monitors read that his heart rate and blood pressure were steady and his chest rose and fell in a soft, even pattern. A soft snore was emanating from his open mouth and she released the breath she had been holding unconsciously in relief.

There was a plastic chair up against the wall and she pulled it over to the bed. She took his hand and laid her head down to rest for a moment. It had been a long day.

"Bones," a raspy voice pierced through her sleep and she raised her head slowly.

Brown eyes met gray.

"Booth!"

"Bones," he tried to sit up, but grimaced in pain, "You okay?"

"Me?" she yawned, "Yes. I'm fine, Booth. How about you?"

"I'll live," he smiled, "The kids okay?"

"Yes. Julie and Jenny took the younger ones home and Parker is waiting out in the lounge because they would not allow him back here."

"Why not?" he grunted as she help him into a sitting position, "You're back here."

"I told them I was a doctor," she smiled slyly.

"Well you are," he pointed out, "I mean, you might as well get the perks since you worked so hard for it."

"I'm not a medical doctor, Booth," she muttered, as though someone would overhear her through the closed door.

"Doesn't matter to me, Bones," he grinned, "Your better than any medicines these MDs could force on me."

"I'm supposed to alert the nurse now that you are conscious," she told him matter-of-factly, reaching for the call button.

"Wait," he stayed her hand, pulling her close, "I need something first."

"What?"

"This," he drew her head closed and drank deep of her lips.

"Well," Dr. Fretz's amused voice sounded behind them, causing the couple to break off the kiss abruptly, "I see you are recovering nicely, Director."

"Call me Booth," the other man muttered, furtively wiping his wife's lipstick off of his mouth, "So when can I go home, Doc?"

Fretz looked at his chart and took his vitals, then probed in a series of different places around Booth's abdomen. Booth tried his best to hide his pain, but gasped when the doctor reached a particularly tender area near where his gallbladder had been. Next, the doctor took hold of the bandaging that covered Booth's bellybutton and pulled it off in one quick stroke.

Booth swore.

"Was that truly necessary?" Dr. Brennan-Booth said in defense of her husband.

"'SOkay, Bones," Booth wheezed, "Better this way than the slow way, honest."

"Everything looks good," the doctor stepped back from the bed, "Now, Mr. Booth as I was explaining to your wife this is normally considered an outpatient operation. However, given your pain level and the fact that I doubt you could walk more than four of five steps on your own right now, I'm going to recommend that you be admitted overnight," he held off a hand to stave off both Booths' protests, "You came dangerously close to having your gallbladder rupture on you today and there is a lot of soft tissue inflammation as a result. You may not like it, but I'm sure you can see it's the wisest decision."

"It's our fifteenth anniversary," Booth said weakly, clinging to his Bones by her hand.

"Then Happy Anniversary to you both," Dr. Fretz said congenially, "However, my opinion remains the same. I can get you a private room, of course. Your status as Deputy Director alone merits you that much and your wife is welcome to stay with you. I'll see to it personally that she is given a proper bed to sleep on," he put up his hands, "That's the best I can offer."

"We'll take it," the lone female in the room spoke up calmly, "And thank you, Dr. Fretz- for everything."

"Bones-" Booth started to protest.

"No, Booth," she laid her hand gently on his shoulder and met his eyes, "He's correct in his assessment of your condition. It would be unwise to take you home at this juncture."

"Alright," Booth acceded grudgingly, "But I want pudding too."

Both doctors chuckled.

"I do have a favor to ask of you, Dr. Brennan-Booth," Fretz said.

"Yes?"

The MD produced something from under the stack of charts that he had been carrying, "Would you sign your latest book for me? My wife is a huge fan and she would kill me if I didn't get your autograph while I had you here."

"Bus-ted," Booth snickered as his wife turned a deep pink and signed the book.

"Thank you again," she said as the satisfied doctor turned to leave, "Truly."

"You are truly welcome, Doctor," he winked and left them alone in the room again.

An hour later Deputy Director Seeley Booth had settled into his private room with his wife resting comfortably beside him in an adjoining bed. Parker had stayed until visiting hours were over and had promised to come and retrieve them the next day. Their Bones had walked him down to the lobby.

"Hey, Bones," Booth nudged his wife, "Look what the Doc sent up for me while you were gone," he held up a sealed plastic tube.

"Booth," she wrinkled her nose, "Are those your-"

"Yup," he cut her off, "My babies!"

"Seeley Booth," she reproved him, propping herself up on one elbow, "Gallstones hardly count as children."

"Felt like I gave birth to 'em," he said in mock earnestness.

She shook her head, "We'll talk birthing when _you_ push something the size of a watermelon through something-"

He put his finger on her lips, "You know, what, Bones? You win, okay?" he grinned mischievously, "I'm still taking them home with me."

She rolled her eyes, letting them convey far more than any spoken word.

"Sorry my gallbladder had to go and ruin today for us," he said softly.

She shrugged, "You are alive. That is all that counts today, Booth."

"Love you, Bones."

"Love you too, Booth."

They turned out the lights and were asleep within minutes.


	4. Twenty

Twenty

Deputy Director Seeley Booth opened his eyes and smiled at the sight that greeted him. His wife lay with her back to him, auburn hair askew, covering her face from his view for the time being.

To the rest of the world she was Doctor Temperance Brennan-Booth, world-renowned forensic anthropologist and best-selling author. Many an article on her over the years had described her as a leader in her field, but also having a "cool, clinical approach to her science that makes her come off as unfeeling to those who work with her, as well as to the jurors that she testifies before." He had always assumed that the co-workers they spoke of were more the CSU techs that they had worked with over the years; or perhaps some disgruntled grad student from that period where they were looking for someone to fill Zack's large shoes at the Jeffersonian. He felt the comments about her court cases unfair given the great strides that she had made in that area. Ever since they had found Maggie Schilling in the fridge, she had made a concerted effort to convey more of her emotions to the jury and their conviction rate spoke to her success.

To her colleagues at the Jeffersonian, he knew that she was highly respected. She had brought a new type of esteem to the Jeffersonian, and to scientists in general through her work with the FBI over the years. There were always detractors of course who claimed that she had forsaken the pure nature of scientific observation. More than one eyebrow had been raised when she had married him; however, by and large their work was admired and appreciated throughout the scientific community.

To her friends- Cam, Angela, Jack, and Zack- she was all of that and more. The Squint Squad acknowledged her leadership, knew that there was far more to her than what the media portrayed, and had provided her with a surrogate family at a critical time in her life. Even nearly two decades after they had stopped working together, the group gathered together for holidays and special occasions. They would all be here tonight for an intimate dinner to celebrate the Booths' twentieth anniversary. It was what she had wanted most and he still could not deny her anything.

She turned, still asleep, and he took in her face. It was still half hidden by her hair, but he could see the indentations where her face had been pressed up against her pillow through the night. Her skin looked soft in the early morning light, causing his breath to catch in his throat. She hadn't aged much at all in his opinion and where she had it didn't bother him one iota.

Yes, to the rest of the world she was Dr. Brennan-Booth, but to him she would always be Bones. She was the first person he wanted to talk to in the morning and the last person he whispered to at night. He acknowledged her brilliance, but appreciated her for the person she was outside of the lab as well. She had allowed him to see the soft, vulnerable side that few knew existed. He had challenged her in the areas that she was weak and supported her when her efforts fell flat. There was no judgment, no rejection; just a safe place to fall. She had entrusted him with her heart and he, in turn, had opened up his own heart to her.

They had been partners, friends, and lovers. They had left a legacy at the FBI with their impeccable conviction record, in the lives of each of their many fosters daughters and adopted children, and finally in their own daughter, Hope. They were the center- and the center had held. Booth smiled at the thought and drifted back to sleep.

B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B&B

She had felt his eyes on her from the moment she turned over, but had waited to open them. Mentally, she shook her head as she peeked open one eye only to find that he had fallen back asleep. It didn't bother her and she decided that turnabout was fair play. Opening both of her eyes she let them rove freely. For a fifty-eight year old male he was still very handsome. His hair had not yet begun to gray, nor did he have many wrinkles. The ones he did have were smile lines from using that Booth charm of his in large quantities. It was not right how he could manipulate people- especially her- with that smile.

She wondered how many people would see his smile and charming demeanor and look no further. Beyond the fact that he was a charming, friendly person, he was extremely intelligent in his own right. She recalled all of the interrogations that she had sat in on over the years, observing his tactics in getting people to tell him the truth. They were observers, she and Booth. Where she observed human remains, he observed people. Where she could determine how a victim died, he could pinpoint who was telling the truth and who was not. She could recall all of the cases that they had worked on together over the years; he could recall every personal detail that she had shared with him since their first meeting.

Twenty-four years had passed since they had first worked together as a team. They had been married for twenty of them. Back then, she remembered thinking that he was simply another arrogant law enforcement officer who- while grudgingly willing to accept her help- did not truly value her abilities. She would have scoffed at anyone who told her they would become romantically involved- let alone married. And yet slowly but surely they had woven their lives together until she could no longer deny her feelings for him. Until she realized that she no longer wanted to deny them.

They had been working together several years before she finally awoke to the fact that- just as she had things that she hid from the rest of the world- there was a side to him that he rarely displayed in front of others. She remembered on their wedding night wondering what events had led to the number of faded scars that dotted his back and torso. Over the last two decades he had opened his heart to her as she had to him and she came to admire him all the more for the man that he had allowed himself to become.

They had met with former soldier friends of his over the years who had not fared as well- men who were empty shells of the warriors they once were. After one such meeting he had come home and sobbed brokenly, thanking her again and again for her support of him over the years. She had lost count of the nights he had awoken in a cold sweat from some sniper-related nightmare, heart racing, pupils dilated. Every time his duty forced him to take another life, she made sure that she was there to uphold him through it and that he knew she admired him for the sacrifices he was forced to make.

She had found that through the years she truly enjoyed caring for him and his needs as much as he seemed to about her and her needs. It did not cage her in, but rather freed her to accept his love all the more and allowed them to grow individually and as a couple. She was a stronger woman today then she had been twenty years ago. For two people who operated from such polar opposite viewpoints, they somehow had merged together to form a stronger whole. She was proud to have this man share not simply her bed but her life as well. It had not been easy and had taken sacrifice and compromise on both of their parts, but in the end it had been worth it.

She watched as he felt her intense gaze and opened his eyes to meet hers.

"Mornin', Bones," he mumbled sleepily, "Happy Anniversary."

She smiled at him, "I am happy, Booth."


	5. Twentyfive

Twenty-Five

"Booth," Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth was blindfolded and not pleased with her husband at the moment, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see, Bones," Seeley Booth grinned, enjoying his wife's frustration.

They had just spent a very enjoyable evening celebrating their twenty-fifth anniversary. There had been good food, great dancing, and many meaningful gazes exchanged. It had been the perfect date night- until they left the restaurant. That was when Booth had blindfolded her. He was now leading her with one arm entwined around hers and the other firmly on her lower back. He helped her into the SUV and buckled her in.

"Booth," she protested again, "Is this truly necessary?"

"Hah, Bones," he crowed as he pulled into traffic, "I remember you doing the exact same thing to me for my birthday several years ago, so no complaining."

She sat back in her seat, acknowledging the truth of his words but not particularly liking it. She decided to use the time to reflect of the day's events.

Her thoughts drifted back to early that morning…

BBBBBBBBBBB

"You two decent?" Parker called, pounding on the bedroom door, "'Cause we're coming in!"

The couple assured him that they were and five Booths spilled into the room.

"Blech!" Jake said on finding his parents kissing theatrically, "PG-13 guys; seriously," he covered Hope's eyes.

The eight year-old little girl giggled and bounded onto the bed between her parents.

"We made you breakfast," she said proudly, dark hair falling in her face, brown eyes glowing with pride, "I helped with the eggs!"

"I bet they're great, Kiddo," Booth ruffled her hair.

"Well," Julie inserted, balancing a tray of food, "I say if you two don't behave in front of the children than you don't get the goodies!"

Three heads bobbed in agreement, while Hope glanced between her two parents wondering what they would decide.

"Fine," Booth relented, leaning over Hope and giving his wife a final peck, "But just for now. Tonight, she's all mine no matter what you hooligans come up with."

"Moving on," Jenny said, passing a tray to her mother while Julie passed hers to Booth, "Your first course is eggs and toast."

Four courses later the Booths were stuffed to the gills.

"I don't think I could eat any more if I tried," Booth groaned when they were alone again, rubbing his stomach for emphasis, "Though it was great of them to do that for us."

"Agreed," his wife began preparing for the day, "And I am sated as well."

"Satan?" Booth looked at her quizzically.

"Sated," she enunciated slowly, "It means that my hunger has been satisfied."

"You're full too?"

"I believe I said that."

He grinned wolfishly and kissed her fully again.

"We do have things planned for the day," she pointed out between kisses.

"Says who?" his voice was husky, "I took off the entire day for you, Bones. Short of a nuclear war breaking out- I am unavailable to the FBI. So this year," he kissed her again, "We get to celebrate however we want."

"Twenty-five years of marriage _does_ seem like a remarkable achievement," she agreed, pulling out of his grasp and going back to her closet, "And I concur that our twentieth year celebration was a bit unorthodox."

"Yup," he pulled on a pair of pants and looked over at her, "We've officially stuck it out for a quarter of a century."

"Stuck what out?"

"Stayed married, Bones," he explained, giving her a bare-chested hug that left her shivering with pleasure, before donning a shirt, "We've lasted a quarter of a century without killing each other."

"Of course we have, Booth," she chided lightly, donning her own clothing, "We vowed that we would stay together no matter what the circumstances. Why would we decide to break that vow?"

"People do all of the time," he shrugged, "They give up when it gets tough, or when the money runs low, or when they fall out of love, or when they get sick of the day-to-day routine. You name it, people divorce for it."

"Well," she pondered his words, "We certainly have not had the hardest life- though there have been a few crises along the way. Our joint venture through those experiences has only drawn us closer, however, not further apart. I doubt that our money will ever run low, so we do not have to worry about that pitfall. Between the five children and your position as Deputy Director, our day-to-day experiences vary so much I could never see them as 'routine.' And as for love," she smiled at him, "Well, I have always maintained that euphoric love is overrated."

"There you go using big words on me again," he waggled a finger at her as they moved out of their room and into the hallway.

"I mean it, Booth," she said forcefully, "The love that people discuss in the media is nothing more than a hormonal response to pheromones and other biological urges," she held up a hand to stay his protest as they descended into the living room and sat down opposite each other, "That love is shallow and fades over time as it is based purely in lust.

"The love that we share, however, is different. It abides because we make a conscious effort to nourish and sustain it. Love by its very definition is a verb, not a state of being. Verbs are action words, therefore our love is borne out in our actions- not based on our current emotional state."

"And the lust?" Booth leered, teasing her.

She shrugged, "Lust is fueled by love and perfected into a deeper level of communication between two individuals as it evolves over time."

"That," Booth said, cupping her cheek with his hand, "Is one of the most romantic things you have ever said, Bones."

"A lot of heart?" she smiled coyly at him.

"Yeah, Bones," he said in all seriousness, "Tons of heart."

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB

"We're here!" Booth announced, breaking her reverie.

"That," she said, still pouting a bit, "Is not very informative."

"Not meant to be," she could hear the obnoxious grin in his voice.

He eased her out of the car and they traversed along with him leading her again. The terrain was not the easiest to navigate in high heels and she grumbled about not having appropriate footwear several times.

"Voila!" Booth pulled off the blindfold with flourish, "Happy Quarter Century, Bones!"

She blinked, adjusting her eyes to the bright light that glared from a nearby floodlight.

"Booth," she looked at him confused when she realized where he had taken her, "We are home."

"Well, yeah," Booth smiled, "But that home's not for us," he pointed to a structure that she knew had not been on the property before.

"What is it?" she moved in closer for an inspection.

As she neared it, she recognized what it was and gasped, "Booth!"

He put his arm around her and whispered, "Figured it was about time we adopted again."

He whistled and a small, sage-furred puppy came bounding out of the little house and into the arms of his new masters.

"Oh, Booth," she repeated again, catching the puppy up in her arms despite her fancy attire, "He's beautiful!"

"He's a ten month-old Chesapeake Bay Retriever named Goldie," Booth said proudly, scratching the puppy's ears, "Already housebroken too according to the shelter I found him in. Original owners found out how big he would get and bailed. So what do you think?"

"I love him," she sighed, snuggling the puppy close to her chest.

A wave of bittersweet feelings rushed over her as she remembered another dog that she had nearly owned decades before. There had been nothing that she could do to save Ripley back then, but it touched her heart that Booth had remembered all these years later and had saved this little puppy from a similar fate.

"And I love you too, Booth," she met his gaze and let her eyes convey what her words could not.

"I love you, Bones."

Goldie yipped in agreement.


	6. Thirty

Thirty

On a cold New Year's Eve afternoon, Deputy Director Seeley Booth pulled the hood of his sweatshirt close to his head and took off at a brisk running pace.

This week had been a rough week at the FBI and the last thing he needed- or wanted- was company. The interval between Christmas and New Year's always seem to produce the most stress-filled week of the year at the Hoover Building and this year had been no exception.

So when the guests for the Booths' annual New Year's Eve party had begun pouring in and the noise level grew, Booth had shot a pleading look at Bones, who nodded and handed him the dog's leash- giving him a legitimate excuse to go off on his own. He would be sure to make it up to her later.

The rhythmic pounding of his feet on the pavement was calming and he found his mind drifting to the coming year. In just a few short months he and Bones would celebrate their thirtieth anniversary. The wheels were already in motion for the surprise he had in store for her and he felt sure she was going to love it.

It had taken him forever to come up with an idea. What- after all- do you get for the woman who has everything and who can afford whatever she might not already have? He had prided himself throughout the years for buying her gifts that were both unique and very personal. Now it was time for him to outdo himself yet again and once the idea had struck him, he knew he had a winner.

Booth smiled to himself, making mental a mental list of all of the pieces that needed to fall into place still. He had contacted Cam before Christmas to help him with some of the details that would not escape his wife's notice if he did them from home. He had also enlisted Angela and Jack in the scheme and he was praying that the former would be able to keep the secret long enough for him to tell Bones. The artist had squealed so loud at the idea Booth thought he would lose his hearing and while he was still recovering from that, she had given him a bone-crushing hug. She had begged him not to wait until May to tell the good doctor and he had promised to think about it. At the time he had been more focused on Christmas.

Now, however, Christmas was over and a new year was about to unfold in front of them whether they were ready for it or not.

Booth and Goldie completed their circuit around the neighborhood and entered their front yard. Their warm breath was clearly visible in the paling light and Booth found himself breathing more heavily than he thought he ought to be.

"You know," he said to the dog, "I used be able to run two miles without breaking a sweat. Now I can't even get around the neighborhood without panting like a dog. No offense."

Goldie didn't seem to mind and nudged his head under Booth's hand. Booth obliged by kneeling down and running both hands through the dog's silky coat.

"I'm getting old, pup," he addressed Goldie again, "I've been married almost thirty years to the same woman. Parker and Jenny are married with four kids of their own. Julie's gonna be a Special Agent before you know it. Jake isn't out of high school yet and can do things with computers that I never knew were possible. I swear that boy is going to make a heck of a living off of it someday- or end in prison for hacking the wrong thing. And Hope- that little tiny girl we brought home from the hospital- is turning thirteen!"

Goldie looked up at him unsympathetically, eyes begging for more attention.

Booth grinned down at the dog, picked himself up off of the ground, and moved toward the house.

The warm air was heavy with the scent of hot chocolate and assorted baked goods. Bones greeted him with a kiss and he thanked her silently with his eyes for allowing him the time to be alone. She tilted her head, wordlessly questioning if he would be okay, he nodded in affirmation and kissed her soundly again.

"Midnight's not for another four hours, you two," Angela crowed from the back of the living room.

"Hey," Booth said over the top of his wife's shoulder, pointing a finger in the artist's direction, "For all of the necking and such that we had to endure over the years, I'm entitled to a kiss or two."

Angela smiled innocently and went back to serving dessert.

Booth hugged his wife again and whispered in her ear, "Come upstairs with me."

She pulled back and spoke quietly, "Booth, we have company!"

"Not for _that_," he teased softly, "I want to show you something."

"Alright," she agreed, "But let's not be too long or Angela will begin questioning our motives."

Booth led her by the hand and they slipped quietly up to the privacy of their bedroom.

"Do I need to close my eyes?" she asked.

"Nope."

He rummaged around in his dresser drawer and drew out an envelope.

"Here, Bones," he smiled, "Happy Anniversary."

"Booth," she scolded, "Our anniversary isn't for several months."

"Yeah, I know," his eyes twinkled with delight, "But you'll need the time to prepare, trust me. Plus Angela's been helping me and I'm not sure how much longer she can restrain herself from telling you."

Intrigued, Bones opened the envelope.

"Plane tickets?" she questioned him, "I've been to several countries you know? Peru, Rwanda, Guatemala, Tibet-"

He cut her off with a toe-tingling kiss, "These are not just any plane tickets, Bones," he said, voice now husky, "These plane tickets will take us to an exclusive dig site in need of a world-renowned forensic anthropologist to identify the remains found there."

"Truly, Booth?" she met his eyes, her growing excitement evidenced in her voice, "A dig site?"

"Complete with bones for my Bones," he grinned, "Do you see why I needed to tell you ahead of time?"

"Yes," she said flying into a frenzy, "You know, Booth, we have a lot to do," it was a statement, not a question, "I'll have to get my passport renewed, make certain that my vaccinations are up to date, refresh myself on the latest retrieval techniques-"

He cut her off with another kiss and she quieted in his arms.

"We've got plenty of time, Bones," he soothed, stroking her hair.

"A true dig site," she whispered in awe yet again, "And you'll be with me?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"What about the children?" she wanted to know next.

"Covered," he smiled warmly, "Julie's going to come back home and stay with Jake and Hope while we're gone and I've already told the FBI that I'm taking my vacation then."

"It's the perfect gift, Booth," she whispered against his chest, "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Bones."

"We should probably get back down to our company now," she commented a moment later.

"Probably."

"Angela will be feeding their imaginations."

"Definitely."

"I love you, Seeley Booth."

"And I love you, Temperance Booth."

For the first time in their nearly thirty years as a married couple the un-hyphenated name rang true to her ears and she didn't feel the need to correct him as they walked arm in arm down to their waiting company.

When the couple shared their news Angela squealed the loudest.


	7. ThirtyFive

Thirty-Five

"Ready to go, Bones?" Seeley Booth turned to his wife of thirty-five years.

Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth did a quick inspection of herself in the floor-length mirror and nodded, "I believe my attire is appropriate."

He came up behind her, planting a kiss on her neck and enveloping her waist with his arms, "You couldn't not look appropriate, Bones," he whispered.

"That," she craned her neck to tease him with a smile in her eyes, "Is a double negative."

He shrugged, offering her his elbow, "Com'on, Bones, let's blow this joint!"

"That sound as if we are going to do some sort of recreational drugs," she shook her head, puzzled, "Though I doubt that's what you are implying."

"Good call, Bones," he grinned as they exited the room, "It means we're leaving. Now. Before anyone can decide that they need us elsewhere."

They reached the garage and Booth halted her before she could climb in the passengers' seat.

"Here, Bones," he held out the keys to the car.

"You're letting me drive?" she said with a hint of incredulity, "Are you certain?"

"Yeah," his grin was wide and lazy, "Somebody once told me that you are an excellent driver, so I figured I'd give you a shot at it for once."

She rolled her eyes, but grabbed the keys before he could change his mind, "And it only took you thirty-five years to reach this conclusion?"

"Thirty-nine if you count our partnership years too," he pointed out, "And I _have_ let you drive the kids around all these years so that should count for something."

"How gracious and benevolent of you," she said dryly, "Though I do have the better driving record."

"No you don't!"

"Booth," she turned to him as they reached a stop light, "I have no moving violations on my record, nor have I been in a single accident since I started driving."

"I don't have any moving violations," he grumbled playfully.

"You had the sirens and the government-issue vehicle to ensure that," she returned.

"Yeah well," he groused, "I'm letting you drive now. It's not the easiest thing for me."

She nodded and switched to a more serious tone of voice, "I know, Booth. Thanks."

"You're welcome."

They traveled in companionable silence toward their destination. Booth took the time to admire the scenery as they passed by newly plowed fields and over rushing streams. It was all he could do to not fidget in his seat. Not that he particularly minded her driving- he just didn't like being the passenger.

"Booth," his wife called, "We're here."

They exited the car and took some of the things out of the trunk that they had brought along.

In front of them was a path that led to a tunnel that went under the highway they had just driven over. On the other side of the tunnel was a wide-open field that was littered with picnic blankets and lawn chairs. An outdoor stage was located at the far end of the field and generic music blared from the speakers that were scattered throughout the area. A band was setting up their equipment. Small playgrounds, tennis courts, and a basketball court littered the large park. Other smaller stages were being set up as well. A large tent had been set up and men were sweating over large, long rows of grills.

"Welcome to the World's Largest Chicken Barbeque, Bones," Booth announced as they neared a long queue of people.

They selected a location to set their blanket and chairs down, purchased tickets, and joined the line.

"Is this barbeque truly the world's largest, Booth?"

"According to the Guinness Book it is," he replied, stretching from the long drive, "My parents used to bring me here to Lancaster as a kid. Not every year, but often enough."

They moved through the line with relative ease and settled down to eat.

"Thanks for coming here for our anniversary, Bones," Booth said around his mouthful of chicken, "This is great!"

"You're welcome, Booth," she replied, "I know that you don't particularly enjoy getting all dressed up for the evening and you've certainly done enough for me over the years. I thought it only fair that we celebrate in a way that you would enjoy this year."

Booth smiled at her, "Well I _am_ enjoying it, my dear. It's the perfect weather for the perfect date with the perfect woman."

They smiled at each other and went back to the food.

Booth was right. It was a beautiful day for an outdoor barbeque. After they finished their food the couple meandered around the park, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and smells of the event. One of the smaller stages had cover bands playing songs from the 80's and 90's. A group of people around their age had started an impromptu dance and the couple joined in, swaying to the music.

She laid her head on his shoulder, allowing him to lead and enjoying the moment. Memories from the past flooded in with the music. Good times. Hard times. Songs had a way of resurrecting the past from her long-term memory and she allowed them to wash over her like a cleansing rain.

A female singer took the stage and Booth knew even before she began singing what was coming next.

"You ready to go, Bones?" he asked gently, ready to spirit her away if need be.

"No," she shook her head firmly as the first strains of "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" were belted out, "I'm alright. Truly I am."

A look of cautious wonder crossed his face, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Booth," their eyes connected as their bodies moved of their own accord, "I can face this."

And she could. Booth marveled at his wife as she moved to the beat inside of his arms as if they were one. Only at the end of the song did a small cloud pass in front of her face for a brief moment and her hand reached unconsciously to graze the spot where the bullet had entered him so many decades ago. He eased them over to the edge of the dancing crowd and back to their picnic blanket, hand guiding her lower back all the way. When they reached it, he lowered her down with him, stretching his legs wide so she could sit between them and lean back against his chest.

"You did it, Bones," he spoke softly in her ear, holding her close , "You made it through the whole song."

"As did you," she replied softly, turning her head back to meet his eyes, "I'm so glad you're alive, Booth."

"Me too."

They sat together in silence, comforting each other with their touch and an occasional gaze.

She remembered a time in her life when she had felt that relying on another person so wholly would mean giving up who she was as an individual. Booth's early attempts to defend her or see to her needs had made her feel that he saw her as weak and inadequate. She had seen him as controlling and possessive and it had taken years before she had come to the realization that she had been incorrect. And as her perspective changed she began to see that it was his love and concern for her well-being that motivated his actions and drove him to try and fix all that he saw as wrong. Not since her childhood had she known anyone who cared as much about her well-being as Seeley Booth.

So she had surrendered to his love and allowed him full access to her heart and her problems. She had been astounded when he had reciprocated the access and gained a deeper respect for the man that he was and the trials that he had endured through his life. As the decades passed, they had enmeshed their lives so completely together she could not imagine what it would be like to live alone. She leaned back again his chest and sighed contentedly.

Booth smiled as his Bones leaned back against him and relaxed. He was so pleased that she had agreed to come with him here. Not that he minded taking her to fancy restaurants and dressing up- okay, he might not like the dressing up part as much-but it felt good to enjoy simple activities as well. He coveted the time they had alone together. Carving out time for this day-long date had been their gift for each other this year.

After her return to the lab and his subsequent retirement from the FBI, their schedules had flipped. He was the one at home more often than not and she the one calling to let him know not to hold dinner- or to be awakened at ungodly hours in the morning. It had taken some adjustment for them and for Hope as well, but they had managed just as they always did and life had settled down into a comfortable routine. Three days a week he would ride to DC with her in the morning, loiter at the Jeffersonian until she had eaten lunch, and then head over to one of the parks with his laptop in tow. The FBI had asked him to write a manual on interactions between federal agents and their forensic anthropologist counterparts and he had been tackling the project with gusto. He teased Bones that she was not the only author in the family anymore and she laughed and proceeded to correct his grammar.

"Nickel for your thoughts, Booth," she had sat up and was facing him now.

"It's a penny, Bones," he smiled teasingly at her.

She arched an eyebrow, "Well perhaps I value your thoughts more than a simple penny."

"Perhaps you do."

She slapped his shoulder playfully, "Seriously, Booth, you seemed to be pondering something. What was it?"

"Life," he smiled, "Just life."

"Still thinking up ideas for your manual?"

"Yup," he grinned, rising to his feet and pulling her up with him into an embrace, "I'm going to advise everyone to follow three simple guidelines. One," he kissed her, "Always assume that your forensic anthropologist is right-"

"Sounds good to me," she laughed.

"Two," he held up two fingers, "Go with your 'gut'-"

"Booth, that is completely irrational and contradic-" she was cut off by another kiss.

"And three," he captured her face in his hands and stared deeply into her eyes, "Remember that you and your forensic anthropologist are the center-"

"And the center must hold," she finished for him, smiling, "Are you going to recommend that they all marry their forensic anthropologists as well?"

"Hey," he threw his hands up in the air and shrugged, "It worked for us, didn't it?"

"It certainly did."


	8. Forty

Forty

As Seeley Booth paced back and forth in the waiting room he decided that he did not like hospitals.

He had been to the hospital a few times when he was a kid- once to visit his dying grandmother and again when Jared had opened up Booth's side during their soldier game. As a teenager he had arrived to find one of his best friends paralyzed from the neck down- the victim of an illegal drag race that had killed two of their other classmates.

In the Army, an injured soldier was considered fortunate if they survived long enough to make it back to one of the makeshift field hospitals. Booth had watched far too many injured men die on the field of battle. He'd visited even more in the hospital, knowing that while they may have made it out alive, their lives would never be the same.

During his long career with the FBI, he had been beaten up, shot at, and blown up so many times he joked with Bones that they should buy stock in the healthcare industry. He still shuddered at the thought of how close he had come to losing her when he had left her in Kenton's care after his run-in with her fridge. He thanked God for months afterwards that he had arrived in time to save her.

Another FBI hospital moment he would never forget was watching then-Director Cullen's teenage daughter waste away because she had been given a graft that was riddled with cancer. It had sickened him to discover how many others had died at the hands of the same greedy person and that case still ranked as one of the most personally satisfying to crack. At least Angela had been able to provide the family with some modicum of relief by recreating the Louvre for Amy before she had died.

Of course, the hospital was also the place where Hope had been born. Booth had never respected and loved his wife more than as he watched her labor to bring their child into the world. Everything he had missed with Parker he experienced with Hope and it had impacted him for the rest of his life. He had fallen in love at first sight and it still amazed him to this day that he had been present when his little girl had drawn her first breath and opened her eyes for the very first time.

It was for her that he was here now. No longer an infant, Hope had grown into a beautiful woman and the mirror image of her mother. Seven years ago she had met the man of her dreams and Booth had given her away in marriage. The new couple had struggled for several years now to have children. Pregnancy after pregnancy had ended in miscarriage, though no answer was ever found as to why. Booth had never felt more powerless in his entire life and the pain chipped away at him as the miscarriages had piled up.

Nine months ago, she had gotten pregnant again and had made it through the first trimester with a healthy little one. The second trimester had also passed with no problems for either mother or child and the couple had been thrilled to find out that she was carrying a son. Then came the final trimester and- with two weeks still to go until her due date- she had gone into labor and been rushed to the hospital.

"Booth," he heard Bones chide him gently, laying her hand on his shoulder to halt his pacing, "You are going to wear yourself out."

"Well, where are they?" he demanded, knowing that he was shouting but not really caring, "They've been in there for hours and we haven't heard anything!"

"Booth," she took his arm and led him over to one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs and sat him down, "It takes hours to bring an infant into the world if you will recall."

"She's early," he said, a hint of fear escaping this time.

"She and the baby will be fine," Bones soothed, "Two weeks is not life-threateningly early and due dates are rather speculative in nature. I'm sure that someone will come and inform us the moment that she is ready for visitors."

"I want to be there for her," he tried to convey his emotions with his eyes.

"She has a husband for that, now, Booth," Bones kissed him lightly on the cheek, "Just as Jenny had Parker and I had you. We're a generation removed from the delivery room this time."

"It wasn't this hard with Parker's kids," he said, frustrated.

"Parker and Jenny never had the troubles that Hope and Jim have," she reminded him, "That's what makes this situation so difficult to accept."

"We'll never have to do this with Jake at this rate," he changed the subject abruptly, "Boy's gonna be a confirmed bachelor soon."

"He's thirty-three, Booth," she laughed lightly, "Five years younger than you were before we got married."

"Yeah," Booth admitted reluctantly.

"Mr. and Mrs. Booth?" a fresh-faced nurse called into the waiting room.

"Yes?" the couple said simultaneously.

"They're ready for you now."

The couple followed the nurse back through a labyrinth of corridors and swiped a card through a set of security doors as they entered the maternity ward.

"Here you are," the nurse pointed to a room and opened the door for them, "Congratulations."

Booth entered the room quickly, Bones on his heels.

There, a perfect picture of health and happiness was his little girl. Her face was flushed, but glowing and in her arms was a tiny boy, gently swaddled in baby blues.

"Hey, Dad," she said, grinning, "Hi, Mom. Wanna hold your grandson?"

He stood paralyzed for a moment until Bones prodded him forward to the side of the bed. He moved past Jim, who was beaming with pride, and stood as close to Hope as he could get.

She handed the bundle over to him and he stared down at the face of his grandson, "Dad, meet Lucas Benjamin Roberts."

"Hey little Luke," he whispered to the sleeping baby, "I'm your Grandpa Booth. I'm glad you're okay."

Booth held him for a minute and passed him to Bones, whose face was as filled with wonder as he was sure that his was.

"Sorry to horn in on your anniversary, Dad," Hope said from the bed.

"Best anniversary present we've gotten in forty years," he smiled at her, "I love you, Kiddo."

"Love you too, Dad."


	9. FortyFive

Forty-Five

"My name is, well… it depends on what stage of my life you are talking about.

I was born, Joy Keenan- daughter of Max and Ruth, sister of Kyle. I do not recall being called Joy. My father, however, has said that life was peaceful during that period and that he and my mother were very happy. Then my parents discovered that our lives were threatened and my name changed for the first time.

In order to keep me safe, my name was changed to Temperance Brennan. My parents became Matthew and Christine, a science teacher and a book keeper respectively. My older brother's name was changed to Russ. These names I remember.

We lived in suburbia, not the perfect life, but a stable one nonetheless. Russ and I attended the school where our father taught and our family was a very close-knit one. My parents' marriage was something from a fairy story that one tells to children, though of course it would be years until I recognized that fact. Nothing lasts forever.

My parents left- scared by the presence of one Vince McVicar- and abandoned Russ and I in order to keep us hidden from the men who had threatened our lives when we were the Keenans. One week later, overwhelmed and convinced that he was doing what was best for both of us, Russ left as well. I entered the foster system.

I try never to dwell too long on those years as I find it does little good and stirs up much pain. Still Temperance Brennan on my file, to everyone else I became 'the foster kid' to the classmates at my new school, 'the child' to several of my foster parents, and occasionally 'that smart girl' to my teachers at school. The classmates were insatiably cruel, the foster parents barely tolerable, and the teachers my lifeline. There were key teachers along the way who recognized my intellectual abilities and did their best to mentor me given my home situation.

My hours in the classroom were my happiest, especially as I entered my college and graduate years. At the university I came in contact with people who were like-minded in their desire to soak up knowledge. Degree after degree sated my desire and always left me wanting more. Before I knew it, my name had changed yet again and I was now Doctor Temperance Brennan.

I consider my position as lead forensic anthropologist at the Jeffersonian Institute to be where my true career began. It was there that I formed the personal and professional contacts that would become instrumental in who I was to become. Here, I became a world-renowned scientist, a best-selling author, a partner, a friend, and a wife. My team- Jack Hodgins, Angela Montanegro, Zack Addy, and Camille Saroryan- along with myself and then-Special Agent Seeley Booth became a crime-stopping force that was known for top-level work and the highest conviction rate in the nation. But again, nothing lasts forever.

Three years after we were first partnered with the FBI we lost the first member of our team. Dr. Zack Addy, a young man I considered more a son than a grad student, was lead astray and sent away for many years to pay for the crimes that he was lured into participating in. This was also the time period in which I began to see my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, as perhaps something more than a partner.

As the year after Zack's betrayal marched on, I found myself being drawn closer and closer to Booth. He recognized what I had lost in Zack and helped me through the grieving process. We began to spend larger amounts of time together outside of work than we had before. Four days after the one-year anniversary of losing Zack, Booth and I were married.

For forty-five years now I have been Dr. Temperance Brennan-Booth among my colleagues in the scientific community. To Angela, my best friend, I will always be Bren- to her husband Jack, I am forever Dr. B. I have become a step-mother, a foster mother, a birth mother, and a grandmother.

None of these names- however prestigious or sentimental they may be- can compare to the one given to me by husband from the day he was assigned to me by the FBI. It is a name that has evolved from an irritant, to a nickname, to a true term of endearment.

My name is-"

"Bones," the familiar voice broke through her concentration, bringing her head up from its computer screen vigil, "You almost done in here?"

She typed the last five letters of her prologue, saved her work to her hard drive, and rose gracefully to meet him.

"I just finished," she smiled at him.

"Great," he beamed back at her, "Whatcha working on anyway?"

She shrugged, "My publisher called and suggested that I come out of retirement for one book- an autobiography. Apparently they would like to time it with the release of the fiftieth anniversary edition of Bred in the Bone."

"Fifty years, eh?" he said as they settled into the couch in their living room, "Doesn't seem possible."

"In a year it will be," she shrugged, "The first book came out the year that you and I became partners. We were married four years later-"

"And today," he cut her off, "Is our forty-fifth anniversary. I _can_ do simple math, you know, Bones."

"I suppose," she teased, "Though your memory might be deficient after so many years have passed."

"Deficient?" he drew back in mock horror, hand on his chest, "Seeley Booth? Never!"

They shared a long laugh and a longer kiss.

"So if you are writing an autobiography," Booth smiled, "Does this mean that _I'm_ going to be in it?"

"No, Booth," sarcasm tinged her voice and she punched him lightly on the shoulder, "I'm just going to chop your nearly fifty-year presence in my life off as if you were never there."

Booth pouted, then broke out in a grin, "Doesn't matter. I've been in all of your books anyway, Bones. This time it'll just be under my real name."

"You know," she informed him, "The character of Andy was not based on you until _after_ we were married."

"You just keep telling yourself that, Bones," the charm smile was on full wattage, "Maybe one of these decades you'll convince yourself."

"Incorrigible man."

"Stubborn woman."

"You wouldn't have me any other way!"

"Sure wouldn't, Bones."

"Hey, Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"If you behave," a grin crept across her face, "I'll let you read the manuscript this time."

"Good," he grinned back at her, "Gotta make sure you don't make me look bad or anything."

"That would be impossible, Booth. I love you."

"I love you too, Bones. Happy Anniversary."

**And thus ends "Counting By Fives". **

**So what did you think? Fluffy enough for ya?**

**A huge thanks to my friend Kay, as always, for editing and to all of you who have left comments along the way.**

**I'm not sure when/what my next series will be. Real life is throwing a TON of things my way and I don't want to commit to something I cannot follow through on. **

**Anyway, thank you all again for the great feedback and I'll let you know when/if I start another one.**

**Gum :)**


	10. Fifty

**This chapter celebrates the Booths' 50****th**** wedding anniversary. It was originally written as part of "Wedding Vows: A Series of 12 Oneshots" but I thought it would fit nicely as an epilogue here. If you want more Booth history check out "Wedding Vows", "Snapshots on a Season" and "Purposes Under Heaven."**

**Enjoy! **

**Gum**

To Cherish

Temperance Booth rolled over in bed and slowly opened her eyes. She smiled at the sight of her husband's wide open mouth, from which soft snores were emerging. For years, Booth had vehemently denied that he snored- until she presented him with the audio evidence one morning at breakfast after a particularly loud night. But while she might tease him mercilessly about his snoring, she grown used to the deep cadence over the years and found that she had more trouble falling asleep on nights that he was silent.

Shifting her gaze from his mouth to his bare chest, she let out a small sigh. The scars, old and new, that dotted his chest gave testament to the number of times he had been placed in harm's way; both voluntarily and involuntarily. The scar where Pam's bullet had passed through him always sent shivers down her spine no matter how much time had passed. It reminded her of two of the darkest weeks in her life, when she had believed that the light that was Booth had been extinguished from her life forever. She could never listen to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" the same way again either.

"Ogling my FBI hotness?" a sleepy voice came from the object of her perusal.

"You wish!" she shot back with a quick smile.

"Hey Bones, feel free," he grinned wide, "I'm all yours, Baby!"

She rolled her eyes, "I should hope so, though given our ages, I'm not so sure that the term 'Baby' could apply to either one of us."

"Speak for yourself," Booth leaped out of bed, but his retort was cut short by a loud cracking in his back. He winced in pain.

"Are you alright, Booth?"

"I'll live," he gritted his teeth to stifle the pain.

She shook her head, "I'll go get the coffee. Should I get you an Ibuprofen as well?"

He grunted and headed into the bathroom. Finishing, he pulled on a shirt and went downstairs, lured by the scent of the French Roast that he knew awaited him. He settled himself into the breakfast nook as Bones poked around the kitchen.

"Sleep well, Bones?"

"Not particularly."

"Why not," he sounded concerned, "Were you worrying about something?"

She shook her head, handed him his cup of coffee, and took her place by his side.

"No, it wasn't worry, it was more like me trying to block out your nocturnal emissions."

Booth choked on the coffee, spewing it across the table. Beside him his wife's eyes gleamed with mischief.

"You," he said when he had caught his breath, "Did that on purpose."

"You can't prove that," she batted her eyelashes innocently, "I frequently misuse well-known words and phrases, you know."

"Yes, but I know you too, Temperance," he waggled a finger playfully at her, "And that was a deliberate attempt to choke me."

She shrugged, and decided to distract him with a kiss. The kiss deepened and the coffee was forgotten.

"You know," Parker strode into the room, "You guys are really getting to old to do that where people might walk in on you."

"If you knock first, then you won't have to worry about that," Booth grinned at his son.

"Well somebody had to come get you guys."

"Parker, we're really not certain-"

"About what, Dr. Bones?" he invoked his childhood name for her, "This is a huge day. We all want to celebrate with you."

"Maybe we want to celebrate alone," the elder Booth pointed out, "It is _our_ anniversary."

"Your fiftieth anniversary," Parker emphasized, "Nobody makes it to fifty years anymore, Dad. It's a big thing! Look, just come for a little bit alright? Visit with your old friends, kiss the grandkids and great-grandbabies, make little speech about how moved you are by the whole thing and then you two can come home."

"Fine," Booth groused, still not keen on the idea of being the center of the attention, "But I am not getting dressed up in some monkey suit for this thing."

"I'll make sure he's presentable," Brennan assured her step-son, "Where do we need to go and when should we be there?"

"Actually," Parker winced, "They're coming here. Should be here in a couple of hours. Well, the main bulk will be. The girls and Jake should be here any minute now." He put his hand up in a very Booth-like manner to stave off their protests. "We figured this way you didn't have to go anywhere. And we kids all wanted to come home anyway. You guys get yourselves ready; we'll handle the rest."

Closing the door to their bedroom Booth let out a long sigh and sank down on the bed.

"We're old," he said to no one in particular.

"We've aged," Bones corrected him, "It is an anthropologic inevitability."

"Can you believe it's been fifty years already, Bones?" he pulled her onto the bed beside him just wanting her to be close.

"Yes and no," she molded her body against his, relishing in the familiarity of it, "My mind can accept that passage of time has occurred, that we have changed, and that our children have grown up to have children of their own. It is the logical procession of things."

She looked up at him, noticed the wrinkles around his eyes from years of invoking his charm smile on her, and others. His hair was thinning and gray and liver spots had crept up around his neck. He'd taken good care of himself over the years and had remained lean, but his skin sagged a bit, and his muscle definition had definitely decreased.

She took his hand and placed in to her chest, "But here, Booth, in my heart, the years have flown by faster than I ever dreamed that they could. Some days I think that we should still be Booth and Bones, out in the field or in my lab at the Jeffersonian, fighting crime and putting away the bad guys. We should still be bickering with each other over pie and French fries at the diner and terrorizing Sweets. Parker should be a tow-headed little boy running around the bases with you coaching his t-ball team, not a nearly sixty year-old man with grandchildren of his own. And Julie and Jenny and Jake and Hope- they're all grown up now with families of their own and I miss them. I miss the sound of their childish laughter ringing through the air. I miss being a part of their everyday lives."

She fell silent and leaned into him again, letting him stroke her hair and soothe away her sadness.

"I love you, Bones," he said, just above a whisper.

"And I cherish you," she returned.

"Cherish?"

"Yes, Booth. To cherish means to care for something or someone deeply and with tenderness and love. It can also mean to nurture."

His eyebrows waggled knowingly, "Does that mean you'll help me take a shower? You know, to care for me," a grin broke out on his face, "I'll let you do it with tenderness and love too."

"Booth!" she rolled her eyes and got up from the bed, "You do not need me to shower you. And you are still incorrigible where your libido is concerned."

"You better believe it," he said, getting up and herding her toward the bathroom, "No little blue pills for _this_ guy!"

She slapped him playfully on the arm and followed him into the bathroom.

An hour later they re-entered the bedroom washed and refreshed. They could hear that their children had arrived and were beginning preparations for the afternoon festivities. Still wrapped in her towel, Bones tried to decide what to wear for the occasion.

"Too bad the Roxy dress died in the fire," Booth commented when she asked for his opinion.

"I doubt it would still fit me," she countered, "And besides it would hardly be appropriate."

"I wouldn't mind," he grinned, then scowled, "'Least you don't have to wear a suit."

"You look good in a suit," she insisted, "Besides, if you agree I'll let you wear the 'Cocky' codpiece."

"It's a belt buckle Bones, geez, you sound like Gordon Gordon! Now how is _that _an appropriate thing to wear to our fiftieth wedding anniversary party?" he joked, picking out a white dress shirt and trying to decide which of his flashy ties he wanted to wear with it.

She shrugged, "It's not, but I like you in it." She selected a small, fashionable black dress, "What about this?"

"Nah," Booth shook his head, "Never good to wear black to an anniversary event. Makes people think about death."

"I assume you are going to wear some hideously colored pair of socks with your attire as well?" she returned to the closet for another outfit.

"Hey, if I'm going in a suit, I'm doing it _my_ way! Parker can just cope and deal with it."

She laughed, "I think he was expecting a little more resistance this morning."

"Yeah well, I still don't like the idea of people fawning all over us and reminding us how old we really are, but he seemed determined."

"So what had you planned on doing?"

"Well, I thought I'd take my beautiful wife out to whatever restaurant her heart desired, then go out on the town and dance the night away."

"Until you fell asleep on me around nine o'clock, you mean," she teased.

"I do not go to bed that early!" he protested.

"Seeley Booth, you have gone to sleep around nine every night this week. Last night you were asleep at eight-thirty."

"Well Temperance, a guy's gotta get his beauty sleep sometime."

She laughed and asked him to help her fasten the dress she had chosen. It was a pale lavender sleeveless dress that hugged her body and fell all of the way to the floor.

"You look beautiful, Bones," he said on inspection, "Sure you don't want a big bow for the front, though?"

She gave him a puzzled look.

"You know," he reminded her, "At Angela and Hodgin's non-wedding, when you put the bow at the front instead of the back."

She shrugged her shoulders, "I didn't know, but then again, _you_ didn't tell me that I had it on wrong either! Cam did that."

He chuckled at the memory, "I couldn't break it to you. You were so earnest looking." He reached down and tucked a piece of her graying hair behind her ears. "Those were good times, Bones, weren't they?"

"You mean when we were orbiting around each other for so long you could cut the sexual tension with a knife?" she smiled.

"Well," he grinned back, "Yeah there was that too. But I was talking about you and me out there on the front lines solving crimes and bringing down bad guys."

"We did do a lot of that," she acknowledged.

They were almost ready to go, but still not ready to face the crowd, so they sat face to face on the window seat that overlooked the backyard. They could see the preparations that were being made- a garden tent was being set up, as were rows upon rows of chairs, and beautiful flower arrangements were being placed around a large cake.

"Do you miss it?" Booth said finally, turning to look at her.

"Miss what? The past?"

"No-well yes- but more specifically the Jeffersonian. I couldn't believe the day that you told me you were going to step down and stay at home to pursue your writing career."

"It wasn't just to do that," she laid her hand on his thigh, "There were so many other reasons; a big one being that we wanted to be foster parents, which we could not have done well if I had stayed at the Jeffersonian."

"So that's why you left?" she had never really given him an answer that rang true in his gut.

She dipped her head and blushed slightly, "No, it was you."

"Me?"

"Booth, you'd just been made Deputy Director, that meant that we wouldn't be partners-work partners at least- anymore. The lab had not been the same without Zack when he left, and I knew that I just couldn't work there if you weren't there beside me. It just wouldn't have been the same to be assigned another FBI partner. I had one, and I'd married him. I- I just couldn't face not working with you every day."

Booth nodded in understanding and enveloped her in his arms. Of course she wouldn't feel right working with somebody else. He wasn't sure he would have been all that happy about it himself.

"Hey Bones," he whispered in her ear, "Wanna open your present now? Or do we have to wait for the masses to do that?"

"Now's fine," she gave him one last squeeze and stood up to get his gift for him as well.

They came back to the windowsill, gifts in hand, and sat down once more.

"You first," Booth proffered his gift.

"Together," Bones replied, exchanging her gift for his.

"3-2-1," Booth counted down.

Bones opened the long rectangular box and smiled at the contents. A simple gold chain had been strung with five little skeletons, each bearing a birthstone. A slightly larger skeleton had been hung in the middle of the chain.

"It's our family, Bones," he pointed out, "Each of the stones matches their birthdays. The big one's you."

"I figured it had to be one of us," she smiled, "But where are you in this little bones family?"

He pointed to her neck, where the skeleton he had given her for their first Christmas had hung for nearly five decades, "Right there, Bones, where I've been all along. Close to your heart."

A single tear slipped down her cheek and he caught it with his thumb. Together they removed the older necklace, and re-strung the other one so that it hung in it's rightful place beside the other large skeleton in the middle. He helped her put it back on and kissed the back of her neck.

"Hey," she pointed at his unopened gift sitting on the seat between them, "You didn't open your gift along with me."

He offered a shrug and a charm smile and tore into the larger-sized box.

"Socks?" he held up the various pairs of socks with multi-colored patterns.

"Look under the socks, Booth," she explained, "They are just the padding."

He removed the socks and gently pulled out what he found underneath. It was a montage of hand-drawn portraits. He and Bones were in the center, not as they looked now, but as they had looked back when they had been Special Agent Seeley Booth and Dr. Temperance Brennan. In a circle around them were their children, adopted and foster, each captured at different ages. Toward the edge of the canvas at the top were their friends from the Jeffersonian; the Hodgins-Jack and Angela, Cam, Zack, and even Dr. Goodman. At the bottom were smaller portraits of his and Bones' families- Booth's parents and brother, and Max, Christine, and Russ Brennan. A beautiful script at the top read: Family.

"Angela did it," Bones broke into his thoughts.

"We're the center," Booth breathed.

"And the center has held," Bones finished.

"It's beautiful," he said.

"I guess we both had family on our minds," she said, placing the montage between them and moving closer.

"I guess we did."

They shared a kiss. Not one of youthful, lust-filled passion, but one of wisdom and age, of familiarity and comfort; each knowing that they were not only loved, but cherished.

"You know," a voice broke in, "You keep doing that and one of you is going to die of a heart attack."

"You keep walking in on us, Son," Booth addressed Parker, "And I just might have to dig out my gun and scare you away."

"Once again," Parker wasn't impressed at all with Booth's threats, "Someone had to come up and pull you two off of each other long enough to come to your own party."

Booth stood up and offered his wife his elbow, "Ready to go face the music?"

"Only if you'll promise to dance with me," she accepted it, slipping her arm into his as she'd done for so many years now.

And so they partied, and danced, and laughed. It was a good night- and Booth even managed to stay up until almost midnight.

"Happy Anniversary, Bones," he said as they drifted off to sleep.

"Happy Anniversary, Booth."


End file.
